Memphis

There’s a sixteen-year-old girl a few racks to the left of me, and she looks miserable. It must be homecoming. That’s the only thing I can think of happening this time of year that drives mothers and daughters into a mess like this. The girls in my group home were always worked up over school dances, and one of my foster siblings practically pushed our foster parent into a nervous breakdown over it.

Homecoming, and dinners with potential sponsors with thousands of dollars on the line that I’m not entirely sure I want…or need. Two good reasons to be stressed.

The girl has tried on about a dozen dresses, some short and too tight—as in I would never be okay with my daughter wearing that—and some that belong on a wedding cake…from the nineteen eighties.

I’m waiting on a dress I ordered online. The store put it on hold, but now no one can seem to find it. I used the few pieces of clothing Liv left at my place to pick out what I hope like hell is her size. I went plain and comfortable. The dress is gray, and all that I really cared about was it had those thin straps on the shoulders. If I get lost at all during this dinner tonight, I plan on finding home right there on Liv’s skin. I think the trail of freckles on her left shoulder might be my favorite constellation.

“Every dress is too small, Mom. Even the big ones. And I don’t have a date, I’m going with Hannah and Taylor. I feel really stupid because everyone is going to know I just got dumped. Let’s just forget it.” It’s impossible not to hear her monologue.

She’s sixteen, heartbroken, and as a result, insecure. I’ve been there. Only I never had a parent to take me somewhere nice to pick out clothes. I had Sister Monica, and the St. Vincent de Paul Thrift Store on the corner, where—for as long as I can remember—I got new slacks and a decent white-collared shirt at the start of every year.

“This one looks amazing on you, Sam. Please…at least get the dress so you’re ready, if you decide to go…” Her mom stops abruptly, reaching into her purse for her phone. She holds up a finger and moves to the front of the store to hear better.

Somewhere in that time, the girl’s gaze has found me. When I turn back to keep spying, I’m hit with a crinkled brow and a slight death stare. My crooked smile sets her a little at ease, so I glance back at her mom, then move a little closer so I don’t have to shout.

“Your date is going to be knocked on his ass when he sees you in that,” I say, and she looks down, dragging her hands along the skirt that sways out ending just above her knees.

“He uh…we broke up,” she says, her gaze still down at the skirt of the dress.

I exist in a world where I get an edge by tearing the other guy down. It might be nice to lift someone up.

“Well then, you should definitely get that dress. Dude’s gonna feel sorry as hell watching you have a good time without him.”

And just like that, her eyes flit up and her mouth curves.

“I found it, Mr. Delaney. I’m so sorry for the wait,” the clerk says as she weaves through a line of formal dresses back to me.

“No problem at all. My girl is going to love this dress, but if you couldn’t find it, I was gonna see if you had that one in her size,” I say, nodding over my shoulder to my teenaged friend.

Not in on my plan, the clerk awkwardly nods and smiles. It’s enough, though. I don’t look back until I’m nearly out the door, but her mom’s returned, and they’re both smiling.

I bank the good karma all the way home, stopping at the coffee shop to pick up Miles’s favorite donuts. I drop them off with him at the park, and give him a peek at the dress I chose, maybe just needing one other person’s approval since Liv has no idea it’s coming—let alone what it looks like. His reaction is a little more than I expected, though; I think maybe he’s been drinking today. His whistles are loud, so I take off before his pervy side comes out.

Leo’s waiting in the gym when I walk in, so I check the clock on the wall. I’m not really late; I’m right on time. And technically, buying a dress is business, so just as his mouth starts to fly off the handle with my lack of dedication, I cut him off completely, walking straight into Liv’s office and closing the door behind me.

“Shit,” she startles. “Umm, you still get to knock, okay?”

My lips tighten for a smile. I’m actually excited to give this to her. Fuck me if she hates it.

“Cinderella? Meet your gown,” I say, resting the box on the less-messy side of her desk.

She stares at me suspiciously for a few seconds while her hands work at removing the lid, and I can tell when she starts to piece together what’s happening. We haven’t talked about the dinner once since the big blowout with Angela. There wasn’t a need, really, until there was a date. Angela gave it to me yesterday, again insisting she come along. I dismissed the idea and ordered this dress, which Liv is now lifting slowly in front of her, holding it by the two thin straps that I’ve already imagined over her shoulders.

“A woman helped you with this, didn’t she? Come on; you can tell me,” she says, and I exhale.

“This is all me. Well…it’s really all you, but it just looked like it belonged on you I guess. I knew it when I saw it,” I say.

Her thumbs and fingers rub the fabric, which is soft and well worn, just as I knew she would like it. She lowers it back into the box carefully, recovering the lid with a soft smile painted on her lips.

She likes it.

“I guess this means I have to go to a dinner party, huh?” Her mouth quirks up on one side, and I’m not looking forward to the part I have to say next.

“Good news, though,” I say.

She cocks her head.

“It’ll be over soon.” My voice rises at the end, and I wait for her to get it.

“Tonight?” She doesn’t quite shout, but there’s a hint of surprise…maybe frustration in her tone.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, I just got the date yesterday,” I say, scooping up her hand and playing with her fingers, trying to distract.

I fail. She takes her hand away.

“So that was before I fell asleep at your place—after we sat up until two in the morning talking. So much talking, Memphis. Somewhere in there, maybe an ‘Oh, and that dinner you’re dreading is tomorrow.’” She rolls her eyes and falls into her seat at her desk, scooting back a few feet.

“To be fair, you never fall asleep at my place.” That one wasn’t nice, and I feel sick for saying it the instant the words hit the air. Her eyes droop, and the fact that I made them look that way stabs at my side.

“I didn’t mean—” I start to apologize, but she cuts me off.

“What time should I be ready?” she asks, sliding her chair back into its place at her desk then turning her focus on the computer in front of her. She’s mad.

“Liv,” I say, about to step toward her. She stops me again.

“Time, Memphis?” she says.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and think about waking up every morning. Just once, I’d love to wake up and have her still be there.

“Seven. We need to leave at seven,” I say.

“You need to rent a car,” she answers, leaning back and tapping a pen on a notepad in front of her a few times before glancing at me one last time. “I’m not wearing that beautiful dress on your…Commando.”

My mouth ticks up on the right, and even though she doesn’t smile back, I see the playfulness dust her eyes. As satisfying as that is, though, it’s not crystal clear. I’m never going to be vague with this girl.

“I’ll get a car,” I say, pausing at her doorway, pulling the handle closed with me, but stopping to say one last thing before I leave to let her uncle rip me a new asshole for four straight hours.

“Hey Liv?”

She looks at me sideways, her hair twisted at the base of her neck and held in place by a pencil. When I get the attention of her pale, blue eyes, I hold onto it for a few seconds because sometimes, it’s good to feel lucky.

“When I wake up, and you’re already gone…” I say, noting the way her eyes fall just a little, a hint of a dent above each brow. “I just really wish you were there is all. That’s why I said that.”

Her skin evens out, and sad eyes look a little frightened, but there’s also something in them that looks excited, too. I nod lightly and close her door the rest of the way. I don’t let her or dinner enter my head again until my body has been fully spent and every move Omar Morales knows how to make is imprinted in my brain.

---

The only thing really fueling my exhausted body for this dinner is seeing Liv in that dress. That and the New York strip I intend to put away with a second helping of…another New York strip. I get how vampires feel now. This level of hungry is something I’ve never experienced. I’ve never worked this hard for a fight. The stage is so big, though, that I want to make a statement.

I need to make a statement.

Vegas comes with odds. Not that the local fights don’t, but the odds are almost more important than the glory when it comes to fighting in Vegas. Right now? I’m the underdog. It’s actually right where I want to be, too, because whether he realizes he does or not, Omar Morales has started to think of me as the underdog too.

He’s training right now. He’s putting his body through the same regimen it’s experienced a dozen times. I’m the new kid; he’s the king whose crown I intend to take. But he’s the favorite, which means his hunger…it’s not as rabid as mine.

It gets harder to stay hungry when you’re on top. That’s why I don’t believe in a ceiling. When I defeat Omar, there’s a bigger title in my sights. And when I conquer that one, I want the world. When the world comes, defending titles are next, and I will defend until my death.

For now, though, I am helpless. No one has ever shown me how to tie a tie. I can usually get away with it, but this place—El Carbon—is strictly jackets and ties. I feel like I’m choking every time I put my head in this noose.

“Gah!” I give up on my last attempt and leave the ends undone on either side of my neck. I grab the jacket I bought along with Liv’s dress, and slip my arms in the snug fit. Everything I’m wearing is gray—the suit dark, the shirt light, and the tie somewhere in-between. Miles actually taught me that. “A big man can’t go wrong in gray,” he said. I think he suggested it sometime after I dripped ketchup on my shirt from a burger we shared in the park.

I run my palms under water in my bathroom sink and comb my fingers through my hair a final time.

“This is as good as I get,” I mutter to myself, lowering my eyes and meeting myself in the mirror. With my head turned slightly to one side, I draw my lip up and smirk at myself—in a gray suit. I think maybe Robert Delaney would be proud of his boy right now.

I feel fucking dapper until I step out my trailer door to see a goddess waiting for me. Everything about her is so simple, and that’s what makes it perfect. Her hair somehow seems longer like that, over her bare shoulder. She’s golden, even more so thanks to the setting sunset reflecting all around. Her bare neck and the hint of her breasts is going to draw every man’s eyes one direction, and I can’t even be pissed off about it because holy damn, this woman.

“Wow,” I say.

I roll my shoulders back and let my free hand sink into my pants pocket while my other holds the jacket over my shoulder. My head shakes slowly as my grin spreads, and all I can do is lean into my doorframe, cross my ankles and appreciate her.

“Stop gawking. It’s uncomfortable,” she says, chewing at the inside of her cheek.

“I can’t, Liv. Goddamn.”

Her eyelashes bat nervously, and her gaze flits to me briefly before falling down to the skirt of the flowing, silky dress that she gathers in her fists and squeezes.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I jump from the step of my place, pulling the door closed behind me, and Liv starts to sway her skirt from side to side as I get closer. My hand gravitates to her chin, and I coax her head up just enough to look right into her eyes as we stand toe to toe.

I don’t have cheesy words to say. I’m not going to kiss her. I’m only going to look at her this close to me with nobody around to interrupt us, and I’m going to appreciate every breath I get to have her—right like this. Her hands climb up my chest until each is gripping an end of my tie, and she tugs lightly while letting her head fall and her lip tick up.

“You need a little help, champ?” she teases.

I nod with a light chuckle and helplessly let my hands fall to my sides.

“It may as well be a bandana the way I tie it,” I say, noticing how wrinkled it’s become from my pathetic attempts.

“Let me show you the trick,” she says, pulling the tie from my neck and wrapping it around her own. “Watch carefully. This one is long, and it travels here…then here.”

I’m not paying a damn bit of attention to her hands and the tie; I’m too far gone looking at her lips move. She bites the bottom one when she concentrates. I’ve seen her do it in the office when she doesn’t have a pencil to chew. Her eyelashes flicker, like a hummingbird’s wings, while her eyes dash from one movement of her somehow perfect fingers to the next. Her skin looks so soft, and she smells so good, like the beach and summer.

“You get all that?” she asks, looking up into my eyes as she slips the finished tie from over her head then loops it over mine, her hands working at my collar to put it in place.

“Absolutely not,” I chuckle lightly, giving her a guilty, crooked smile.

Her lips draw into a tight, closed-lip smile, she folds my collar over the tie and straightens it in the center of my neck. It’s still a little constricting, but I don’t dare adjust it. As far as I’m concerned, it’s perfect.

“You got a car, right?” Her eyebrows raise just before she glances to my bike, then down to her skirt. It’s the first time I notice her feet, and the silver toe ring that shimmers from a diamond stud through the woven straps of her shoes. I like the way they crisscross and lace up her leg.

“I was thinking you could drive it again to get us there?” I wait for the brief second it takes for her to realize I’m kidding, and then I manage to catch her fist in my palm before it nails my arm.

“Yes, Liv. I got a car. It’s parked out front,” I say, holding my arm out like a proper escort.

She glowers at me for teasing her, but slips her arm through mine, and I press her palm down flat against my bicep. We’re running a few minutes late, but I don’t give a shit. There is nothing I plan on hurrying right now, even walking a beautiful girl through a dirt alley in ninety-four degrees.

When we get to the sedan I rented for the night, I open her door and help her gather the skirt of her dress, noticing the small bag clutched around her wrist almost like a bracelet. It looks old, the outside covered with pearl-colored beads, some of them a little yellowed from time. She follows the trail of my eyes to it and turns it in her hand, pulling the strap from her wrist.

“I don’t have a lot of purses, so I stole this one from my mom. She used to let me hold it when I was little,” she says, shrugging and looking at the bag as she runs her thumb over the beads. “It made me feel grown-up back then.”

I smile and wait for her to look up at me.

“It suits you,” I say, somehow knowing that the small purse is one of those good things she’s holding onto. A sad smile hits her cheeks, and she mouths thanks.

I round the car and lay my jacket in the back seat, then climb in next to her. This is the second time I’ve had something big like this happen. The first was when Omar’s people requested a sit-down to set something up. I let Angela and Leo do the talking for me, which was probably wise. But this—someone like Fuel wanting to tie themselves to me, to consider my brand worthy of theirs—this is big, and it’s something I have to take the reins on.

I’m nervous.

My hand pauses on the gearshift, my elbow on the center console, and I glance up to catch my reflection in the rearview mirror as I exhale methodically, like I do before a fight. Liv’s hand is soft; it glides over my own, and I open my palm so she can hold my hand completely, squeezing it while I breathe just one more time.

“You’ve got this,” she says. I lay my head sideways on the seat back to look her in the eyes. They steady me somehow, and my heart slows with the rise of my chest. The rise of hers.

“Can’t we just stay here,” I breathe out. I almost mean it.

Her blink is slow, and she shakes her head in tiny movements.

I look down and exhale one more time before moving my eyes back to the roadway, a little less nervous than before. I turn on the car and drive us to the most expensive dinner I will ever have.

The valet takes the car as soon as we pull up, and all too quickly Liv and I are inside and being led to a table by the windows, overlooking the city’s sports district. Angela requested this table, I’m sure of it. She once told me that part of selling yourself is selling where you’re from. I’m not really from anywhere, but I guess I’m from Phoenix now. The glitz of the billboards, rush of people, and thump of bars and restaurants lining the arena and stadium make this look bigtime. And this makes me look bigtime.

“Let me guess…you must be Memphis?” Paul Wolseley is short, but he’s made up for height with muscle. His jacket and shirt are both rolled up at his elbows, and his arms are red from the loss of circulation. He’s just as uncomfortable in a suit as I am. Maybe that’s the reason he’s led off with such a flat joke that I can tell Liv is having a hard time faking laughter for.

“Nah, man. I just handle the books. This here is Memphis,” I say, pointing with my thumb to Liv at my side. This time her laugh is genuine. She knows I’m only making fun of him.

Paul pauses for a second and draws in his brow, but then it fades away as he laughs with us.

“Ahhhh I get it. Funny guy,” he says.

I think maybe Paul Wolseley is a douchebag, but I’m going to hold out judgment…at least through dinner.

“I’m Cadence,” says the woman to his left, reaching across the table to take Liv’s hand. Cadence looks to be about Liv’s age. Paul, on the other hand, is fifty-four. I know he is, for a fact, because before this dinner, I researched him.

“Nice to meet you,” Liv says, shaking Cadence’s hand a lot harder than the woman probably anticipated.

We all take our seats and Paul ushers over a waiter who lists off a bunch of different things, none of them steak, and before I can open my mouth, the Fuel CEO places all of our orders. I’m almost dizzy by the speed at which it all happens. What’s worse—I’m pretty sure he ordered fish. I fucking hate fish.

“It’s the tilapia with jalapeño glaze…it’s to die for, I swear. Best thing on the menu,” Paul says, leaning in as if he’s telling us all a secret.

Before I can open my mouth, I feel Liv’s leg brush against mine.

“Memphis is actually on a pretty strict training program, and his diet needs to include red meat tonight…” Liv smiles with gritted teeth and hunches up her shoulders in a gesture of apology for stepping all over Paul’s order.

“Oh…uh…sure. Duh, I mean,” Paul says, laughing loudly and getting the attention from the dozen or so tables around us. “I’ll get the guy. Hey…”

He waves his hand catching our waiter across the room, and before Paul can talk to pick out something else, Liv steps in for me and orders the strip steak, and one for her, too. Paul looks a little offended when she changes her order.

“She always gets the same thing when we go out so I can have half. It’s a sacrifice she makes,” I say, winking at her.

It seems to satisfy Paul, and it earns another obnoxiously loud laugh from him that might haunt me in my sleep.

There’s a brief awkward silence after the waiter leaves, So far, this dinner has me leaning toward a hard no for linking myself in any way with this man. His company’s name is on the center of every ring I’ve ever fought in, though, so I owe it to myself to see what I can stomach.

“So Liv…” he begins, leaning on the table with his elbows, twisting the gold watch around his wrist to let his hands breathe. Everything this man wears is so tight.

“Mmm,” Liv reacts, her tiny purse in her lap and her thumbs obsessively running over the beads.

“Archie Valentine’s daughter…that must have been some life, huh?”

Everyone is looking at Liv, and that’s the only reason Cadence and Paul don’t notice the sharp breath I take through my nose and the heavy fall of my eyelids as he starts things off by entering into really messy territory. I want to rescue her from this.

“I tell you what, it’s something, training there…at that gym. Leo’s pretty intense.” I try to steer the conversation, but Paul has tunnel vision. Part of it is her beauty, and I know it is. Paul is the kind of guy who wants the greener grass on the other side. He has a date—a young, beautiful date. But I brought Archie Valentine’s daughter, and she’s the most beautiful thing in the room. And he wants her. Her attention, at the very least.

Her undivided attention.

“Did you get to see a lot of his fights? I mean, I’m not sure how young they let you go in. I heard the Atlantic City years were bloody, but your dad was this godlike fighter and he just wouldn’t go down.” Paul pauses, waiting for a reaction from Liv, and I notice her leg starting to bounce under the table.

“I didn’t really see the fights. I was busy going to school, and I never traveled with them when they would go.” She keeps her answer simple, leaving out the gruesome things I’m pretty sure she did see there in the gym.

“Huh, too bad. That was history, you know,” Paul says, glancing to me and gesturing to Liv. “That’s some girl right there—boxing royalty. Ha, I bet the kids at school never fought you, did they?”

He laughs a little less loudly this time, and Liv plays along.

“No, I was pretty much left alone,” she says. Paul is hearing what he wants to hear from her, but I hear the undertone in what she’s saying. She’s not really lying—she was pretty much left alone. And I know her well enough to see the sadness cast in her eyes in that response.

“Memphis, check this out…I remember this one radio interview he did, when he was talking about how he had a daughter, and he made this threat to any guy who ever dated her that they’d have to go through him. Imagine now, huh? Did you have to fight him to bring her as your date?” Paul’s question lingers for a few awkward seconds while Liv’s attention is turned to the waiter pouring a glass of water. She begins the drink the moment he’s done.

“I would never fight Archie Valentine,” I answer, not knowing any other way to respond to this line. First of all, the man can barely leave the bed, let alone the house. And second, I’m not so sure defending his daughter’s honor is a priority.

“I bet it was awesome growing up with him, huh? I bet you got just about anything you wanted, and then you had this dad you could show off at school who looked like frickin’ superman, haha.” Paul’s obnoxious laugh is like a punctuation for everything out of his mouth.

Liv swallows her water so hard I hear the gulp. She lifts the napkin from her place setting and covers her mouth to cough, then pulls her lips in tight and raises her eyebrows.

“He was an amazing dad. You pretty much nailed it,” she says, and I slip my hand to her shaking thigh to settle her.

“You must have some great stories. Go on…give me one time where it was cool having Archie as your dad,” Paul requests.

His enthusiasm is ridiculous, as is his obsession with Liv’s dad. But there are a lot of people like him out there. Archie was the last of his kind in many ways—this huge personality in the ring and on the air before fights. His face was so recognizable with the hard-cut jaw and muted blue eyes; his build was thick and impossible to knock down. He was heavyweight in every sense of the word.

“Paul, I was curious about how you got your start with Fuel?” I try one more time to redirect this, but Liv’s already given in to sacrifice. Before Paul has a chance to take my side trail, she begins to dazzle him with exactly what he wants to hear.

“I remember once when he was coming back from a fight on the East Coast, and I was at school. We had a nanny, and she was taking care of me while they were gone. Anyhow, I was sitting on the steps waiting for the nanny to show up with my lunch, because I’d forgotten it that day, and there were these mean boys who were teasing me about not having lunch and all of those dumb things kids do to make other kids feel bad and whatnot. Anyhow, I blinked, and all of a sudden my dad pulls up in this huge truck that he just bought after winning the fight in Atlantic City. He rushes to me, picking me up and swinging me at the steps, telling me he’s taking me out of school for the rest of the day and we’re going out for pizza…”

Paul is riveted. I feel sick. Liv is lying.

“You know those boys totally wanted to go, but I whispered in his ear that they had been mean to me,” she says.

“Oh my god, what did he do?” Cadence pipes in, now invested too.

Liv smiles with tight lips and leans back in her chair, her leg no longer bobbing. She’s either given over to the lie, or she’s so pissed she’s actually crossed over to calm.

“Nothing,” she says.

“Nothing?” Paul can’t believe it. None of it is true anyhow, so she may as well make this story go the way she wants.

“Exactly,” she says. “He picked me up and carried me into the office, signed me out, and then drove me away in his big-ass truck.”

Both Paul and Cadence are mesmerized, eyes wide in wonder and slight smiles pasted on their lips.

“‘Some people just aren’t worth fighting,’ my dad said.” Liv finishes her tale just as a basket of bread is delivered, and she reaches in and takes the largest piece, breaking off a bite and putting it in her mouth because she is done talking now.

“Amazing,” Paul says. “Just…isn’t that amazing?” He brushes his date’s arm with the back of his hand to make sure she’s as amazed as he is. She seems to be.

We spend the rest of dinner hearing about Paul and his rise to the top of the sporting-goods empire, but every now and then, he slips in more questions about Liv’s dad. She keeps the answers vague for the most part, and by the end of dinner, I can tell that the lies have drained her. I want her to give them all back, to never have told them. I want to reverse even more and say no to this dinner. And I want to make that lie she told true—because I think deep down that’s what she always wished for—and I hate like hell that it never happened for her.

It never happened for me either, but at least I never had the world’s imagined reality to live up to. Not having a dad in my life means nobody is ever going to ask for glory days stories about my blissful childhood.

After nearly two hours of bullshit, Paul is drunk and tired, and he’s also ready to offer me a deal that I don’t deserve. I manage to get him and Cadence into a cab without any more business talk, though, and I beg the valet to rush our car out so I can get Liv out of here.

“I’m so sorry,” I murmur as she stands at the curb waiting with me, her hands fists, one clutched around her tiny bag, both of them at her sides, arms stiff like a soldier.

Liv’s eyes are lost to some other dimension, her face void of emotion. She’s staring into nothingness in that way that makes colors and lights blur together, and she doesn’t snap out of it until the car rolls up right in front of us.

I open her door and shut it for her after she gets in, tipping the valet and rushing to my side because I just don’t want to leave her alone. I begin speaking the moment I close the door.

“Liv, really…I’m so sorry. I should have left when he…”

“It’s fine,” she cuts in.

That word—fine. It is never fine. It’s always anything but fine.

“No, it isn’t. That guy was obnoxious,” I say.

“He was.” Her response is clipped.

“I don’t need to take this deal. I was already uneasy with it anyhow, and there is going to be something better for me down the road, and…”

“Memphis,” she says, her eyes still ahead…lost. “You have no idea how many times I’ve had to pretend that life in the Valentine house is amazing for people. I’ve done it for fans. I’ve done it for the media. I had to do it for my mom when I was little because I thought if she was happy, then I would be happy. When I say it’s fine, I swear I mean it. It’s fine.”

I let her words sit there for the few minutes it takes to drive; the quiet in the car hangs thick as we wait through two stoplights on our way back home. I can’t just let this be it though—I can’t let her do that for me ever again. I promised her I am not her family, that I’m nothing like Archie, Leo or her mom, and if I go on with this story she’s put out there—that her life was amazing and that she is fine—then I’m breaking that promise, because it’s exactly the thing they would do.

I pull the car into Leo’s small driveway, and I kill the lights and engine so all that’s left is dark and silence.

“No, Liv. I mean it,” I say.

She sighs.

“You aren’t fine. That…was not fine. And I don’t need a sponsorship deal from that obsessed fan man. He’ll want to have dinner again someday, and next time he’ll want you to tell him more stories, and you’ll feel like you have to because of money, and frankly Liv, I’ve been fine with very little so far.”

Her head rolls to the side and her eyes meet mine. A gaze that begins as blank fills as her brow pinches, making that sad wrinkle on her forehead.

“Next time,” she whispers.

I shake my head and shrug, not sure what her argument is. She swallows and slowly licks her lips as her mouth parts and a tiny breath escapes.

“You said next time, as if I would be there with you, as if there is an us that goes into tomorrow, next week, next—”

“Liv,” I stop her rambling. We sit like this, my head turned to face hers, inches of actual space between us, but somehow it feels like a mile because there’s no way for me to easily pull her into my arms in this goddamned car.

“I said next time because that’s the only way I see things for you and me. I don’t know what you are, what we are—I don’t think we’re supposed to put a word on whatever this is. But it is something. I close my eyes at night when you’re there and I don’t think. I just sleep, like the calmest fucking sleep of my life, and when I wake up and you’re gone, I feel…”

I draw my lips in tight and shake my head, the feeling scratching at the inside of my chest—just like it has the last few mornings.

“Liv, I feel so goddamned alone when you aren’t there, and it’s weird because I have never felt alone once in my entire life. I was born that way—alone. And then I met you, and…” I breathe out a laugh and roll my head back against the seat, looking up at the car’s ceiling before closing my eyes to remember.

“You walked into your uncle’s kitchen, all pissed and surprised and funny, and it was like…yeah…I know this girl. Something inside me knows her, like her world gets my world, and we’re the only two that get any of this crazy shit. I can tell you my worst, and you don’t even blink. And you tell me yours, and all I want to do is make it better. I don’t think anyone else will fit you like I do, Liv. And I don’t care how punch-drunk that makes me sound, it’s the truth. I know it because I don’t think anyone else will fit me either.”

My eyes fall open after my last word and I roll my head to the side again. I don’t think Liv’s eyes have moved from me once, and she looks terrified. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. She looks so scared, but she looks so broken at the same time. I’ve never wanted a girl so badly in my entire life. I want Liv—I want her heart, I want her body, and I want her goddamn crazy shit, too.

“I just wanna quit waking up so sad in the morning, Liv. I don’t think I can do that anymore. Part of you isn’t enough. It…it isn’t even close.” I breathe in slowly and hold my chest full as my mouth rests in a tired smile. We stare at each other for what feels like minutes until Liv rolls her head back to face the front, pausing for a few seconds before turning toward her door, pulling the handle, pushing it open, and exiting the car.

When it closes behind her, I feel like I’ve been given a shot of morphine—shivers run down my spine, my heart throttles, and my head feels light. The panic lasts only a few seconds though, because Liv doesn’t leave. She stands there, just outside the car, arms folded, purse clutched, shoulders hitched high, and the warm night breeze wrapping her dress around her legs.

I exit on my side and watch her over the roof of the car. When I shut my door, she turns to face me, and our eyes lock. My steps are slow and cautious, and I work to unravel my tie as I slowly round the front of the car; Liv’s body turns with my movement so she’s always facing me. Once my tie is undone, I undo the top button on my shirt so I can breathe, unsnapping the cuffs next before I push the sleeves up my arms.

This is where I should stop—here, four steps away…maybe three. I should make sure that she doesn’t really want to run, but what if she does? If she ran now it would leave a scar. I’m in deep, and Liv has the power to sink me mentally, but I know none of that matters right now. I meant what I said to her in the gym the other day. I am no champion if she isn’t there to see it. If I don’t have her, then what is it all for?

I close the gap between us to three steps, then two, reaching for her face with my hands as feet become inches and when my fingers touch her skin, I know there is no going back now. My mouth takes hers and my hands fall deep into her hair as her fingers claw at my shirt, pulling my body closer to her as she stumbles back on her feet. I catch her, sweeping one hand behind her neck, my lips not leaving hers once as I reach my other hand under her legs and scoop her into my arms.

I carry her to my modest home, holding her to me, kissing her just outside the door, my feet on the bottom step, and the only thing between us and my bed is a damned door I could easily kick down right now.

My grip loosens enough for her to slide from my arms to her own feet, and I lift her to the top step, pressing her back against the door, my forehead against hers, leaving only enough room for me to be able to look down at the few inches between us.

We’re both breathing hard, but it’s not exhaustion. My hand sinks into my pants pocket, desperate for the key to my house, and I fumble it, nearly dropping it to the ground as my mouth finds hers again. My knees bent to lower myself to her level, I kiss her raw as she tilts her chin up. I stand tall, and I blindly find the lock and open the door, spinning my way inside with Liv’s taste on my tongue the entire time.

We both kick away our shoes, and as she sinks her hands inside my button-down shirt, pulling free the buttons and tugging up on where my undershirt is tucked, I slip my thumbs under the thin straps I’ve become obsessed with on her shoulders.

The weight of her dress tumbles to her hips, sliding from her wrists as soon as I move the straps over the curve of her arms, and Liv wriggles the rest to her feet.

I lift her under her arms as her cold palms touch my cheeks, her mouth panting and her lips brushing against mine with stuttered breaths. Our kiss breaks as I raise her as high as I can up onto the loft bed and lift myself right after her. She’s caged beneath me, between my arms as I move over her and she slides back, arching until her breasts brush against my chest, causing her to moan.

I’ve held her like this for nights, and I’ve always obeyed the line I let her draw, but I obliterate it now with her permission, my mouth sucking at the tender spot under her chin, leaving a trail of kisses on her writhing body until my tongue feels the hard peak of one of her breasts.

Her voice breaks with a sweet moan, cut short by the way she moves her hand to her mouth so her teeth can latch on to her fist, her body arching into my touch in search of more pressure. I give it to her, first a gentle bite and pass of my tongue against her nipple, then I suck hard, circling the tip with my tongue in my mouth until I’m sure I’ve left it raw.

Liv’s hands fall to my hair, and she grips tightly, urging my mouth to make her other breast just as sore. I let my bottom lip linger on it, lifting my chin and dragging it against her until the rough stubble of my chin scrapes against the sensitive peak.

“Ah,” she breathes out, tucking her chin and lifting her head enough to meet my gaze.

Her eyes are hazed, and she’s drunk with lust. The tip of her tongue is pinched between her front teeth, and she’s letting out short pants in anticipation, which I draw out until I feel her lower body begin to squirm underneath me.

She needs to be touched.

My lip draws up on one side and I breathe out a light laugh, myself drunk on this power she’s letting me have over her body. I lick her nipple and blow, chilling it until it’s so hard that I can bite it with a little more force, and the feel of my teeth makes Liv buck her hips up and pound her fists down at her sides, grabbing fists full of the blanket beneath us.

I nestle into her side and suck on her breast until she moans out loud, so loud that I hope someone can hear it outside of these metal walls. I want to pound my chest in pride for making her feel like this—for making her feel something. She feels something for me—with me.

My fingertips drag from the center of her chest to her trembling, bare stomach until I feel the lace of the top of her panties. I brush my knuckles along the band then dip my thumb inside, moving it slowly across the width of her body from hip to hip. This is one of those lines that I’ve held as a hard no with her, and it has been torture. I both want to make this last and be certain it’s allowed, so I slowly add more fingertips just inside the soft cotton and lace under her belly button until I have enough to tug into my palm.

Liv cries out softly, her voice vibrating with the word.

“Please,” she begs, and I move my hand just a little more, my palm flat against her bare skin and the soft tickle of her teasing against my fingertips.

I glance to her face, and her eyes are closed tightly while her tongue takes a slow pass over her bottom lip, her imagination already there. The only thing left is the reality.

My eyes fall closed, and my mouth finds its way to her raw skin, to her now warm and wet breast that rises and falls with each breath she takes, and I kiss it while my fingers flex against her lower body. I hold her here, on this cliff, for nearly a minute until I’m satisfied that her body is telling me she wants more. Her hand wraps around my forearm, and she coaxes me lower as I suck her nipple hard one final time, my fingers falling deep inside her while she grabs my arm with both hands and holds it against her tightly.

“Oh my god, Memphis…” My name falls from her lips over and over again, her hips moving for more as I shift my weight and eventually pull my hand away from where she wants me to touch her most.

I position myself between her knees and hook my thumbs on either side of her panties, tugging them over her ass and hips quickly, letting her lift one knee to slip her leg free. Her eyes open on mine, but I drift my gaze down her body and take in every bare inch of her, from her hair splayed in messy, golden waves around my bed to her hands flat at her sides, fingers curling and scratching at the blanket beneath her.

I rest my hands on her hips, my thumbs stretching toward her middle, grazing the light trail of hair that leads to soft pink skin. I tease her, letting my thumb take gentle strokes against her hot, wet center. I touch her like this until the pressure in my cock becomes unbearable, and I breathe out raggedly, my eyes connect with hers, reading them.

My stare bonded to hers, I sit back so I’m on my knees, and my hands drag along the insides of each of her thighs until I reach her knees. I push them wider, and her legs fall open willingly as her body rolls in slow waves.

“So fucking sexy,” I say, moving my hands to the button on my pants, unclasping it and pulling my zipper down enough to free my cock. I hold it in my hand, stroking slowly, taking pleasure from her waiting body laid out in front of me to take. I can smell her sex, and it makes me want to be rough, but I restrain myself because that feels just as good.

“Are you on something?” My eyes dim with my question, and she nods quickly.

“I’ve been on birth control for a year. I’m fine,” she says, her words coming out breathless.

I groan with the knowledge that I’m inches away from sinking inside her, and I position myself so I’m towering over her, holding my weight up with one arm, my other hand still stroking my cock. I let the tip slide against her wet center, taking slow drags up and down until I’m slick with her.

My chin tucked to my chest, I taste her belly button and lick my way up her body until my lips are on her neck and my cock is just at her entrance. With one thrust, I slide inside her and feel my entire chest crush like I’m drowning in an ocean. I move slow at first, our bodies finding their fit together until everything is perfectly matched, and when my lungs fill again, I begin to pump into her harder.

Liv’s legs wrap around my waist, and my right hand finds her thigh, holding it high against me as I pummel into her, rocking until her body has slid to the deepest corner of my bed. Her hands reach up to brace her head against the wall and she arches her chest, begging me to suckle her skin while my cock fills her over and over.

I let the weight of my body ease onto her and tuck my head enough for my tongue to reach her hard tits, flicking her nipple with short passes until she begins to moan. Her hands hold my head against her, pressing me harder into her flesh while my hips rock and I groan, chasing this building explosion that always seems to just be out of reach.

“Fuck me, Memphis. Fuck me so hard that I will feel you for days. Fuck me so you can fight, and it’s the last fuck you get until you kill that man in the ring. Fuck me because I’m yours. This body—my pussy—is yours. I give it to you.”

Her dirty mouth drives me over the edge and I growl as I push into her, wrecking our bodies with pleasure, my eyes wide with desperation and my cock swollen with power.

“You are mine,” I grunt out with one final thrust, her body quivering and convulsing as her hips rock hungrily, wanting her orgasm to last.

I come in her and she squeals from the slick heat as I keep pushing into her, my hand now touching her center, my thumb pressed into her swollen, pink skin. I rub in circles, and she begins to shake with every pulse until her back arches enough to lift her shoulder blades completely from the bed, and she starts to vibrate out a hum.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh, Memphis.”

Fuck me, the way she says my name like this, with that voice. I’ve never felt more alpha than I do right now, and I don’t let her stop, pushing into her, touching her, holding her orgasm hostage until her nails dig into my back and she begs me to stop.

I ease up finally and stare at her, my hips still moving in slow drags, and I move my hand to grip myself again, guiding my cock in and out, torturing her until her eyes open on mine and she bites her lip, ready for me again.

“You sleep here tonight,” I say.

She exhales slowly, a blissful smile stretching her mouth wide as she nods.

“You sleep here every night,” I say.

Her eyes pause on mine at this, and her focus moves from one eye to the other. I’m not sure if the hesitation is because of me, or because of her, but it’s there, and I don’t want it to ruin any of this.

“Or just tonight. We’ll start with tonight, and then we’ll see what happens tomorrow,” I say, falling into her, cradling her back against my chest, our bodies still connected where I pulse inside of her, still hard and unable to use reason because of it.

“I’ll stay,” she finally says, her voice hoarse and frail, but nothing sad about it. She sounds high on the sensations still numbing her body, and my muscles are so jacked with adrenaline I feel like I could go rounds with the best right now.

I rock my hips into her slowly, filling her again, and my lips rest on the center of her back. Her skin is so silky and warm, and the beads of moisture that dampen it is salty and sweet to the taste. I consume her while I have her, and I never let my mind go to what happens tomorrow.

Tonight—here—I am her champion, and that’s all that matters.